tabaqui | As If We Should Forget We Have No Hands...part ten *s/x*

As If We Should Forget We Have No Hands...part ten s/x

Monday, April 3rd, 2006 04:17 pm

*waves to flist*

Suddenly, it's Spring! Windy, chilly, crazy storms with *hail* - i love it. Birds going mad in the underbrush, dogwood and redbud starting to bloom, hyacinth and forsythia... Lovely stuff. If only it'd *stay* like this - perpetually about sixty-five degrees and colder at night...
*longs for the beach*

Anyway... I know this was linked around last week or so, but i felt like i needed to spread it just that much further. Oglala Sioux President fighting the abortion ban... I've written to the site and checked back but haven't seen anything further - if anyone has read or heard any sort of update, maybe post in comments? This has been *very* underreported in the main-stream media, which is disappointing but not suprising.

Also, if you wanna call a senator? Call Bill Napoli.

I couldn't resist posting this picture. Heh. Me, the Monstrous Bebe - jacuzzi!! Yes, perfectly safe, she's my bebe!

Now, to fic! Much beta-love for

reremouse and

darkhavens for their work and help. Anything wrong? All on me! Heh.
Previous parts are here.
Enjoy!

Brrrrp, brrrp.

Spike twitched ever so slightly, his fingers pressing for a moment a little tighter into the warm flesh under them.

Brrrrp, brrrp.

*Bloody...hell...* Spike felt the bed jiggle as Xander shifted.

"S'that the phone?"

"S'fucking phone." Spike lifted his head, blinking. The flat was dark, the bed warm and he could see the cobalt-blue of the phone winking at him from - over there. *Too fucking far away.*

"Mmmphf." Xander pushed himself up onto an elbow, yawning. Spike saw him fumble for the lamp next to the couch and he hastily squinted his eyes shut against the sudden glare. "I'll - uh -"

"Too late," Spike said. The phone was silent now and he flopped onto his back, wiggling until he was comfortably against Xander's warm side. "Why'nt we go sleep in the bedroom ever?" he asked and Xander manhandled Spike over, back to chest, Xander's arm around Spike's ribs.

"I - dunno. Seems kinda...weird. I mean...." Xander paused and took a long breath, lifting Spike a little, and Spike laced their fingers together. "I kinda feel like a guest here."

"Not for long, though." Xander squeezed Spike's hand gently and they lay there a moment, silent. Xander's heartbeat was slow and even - lulling - and Spike let his eyes drift shut. There was a heaviness to the air and Spike heard with mild surprise a distant rumble of thunder. *God. Done it this time, haven't I? Really gone and done it. Made this so fucking hard... Fuck, I wish -*

Brrrrp, brrrp.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Spike flung the covers aside and leapt up - stalked to the phone and flipped it open. "It's gone bloody midnight, can't you leave off the bloody jangling down the line!"

"Spike! There's news, about that Slayer in Berlin. She's been rescued!"

"Wesley? Rescued how?"

"Giles says some of Andrew's - er - black ops? About six hours ago."

Spike laughed, looking over at Xander who mouthed something at him. "Yeah, I know what he means. Bloody hell - is she... I mean -"

"She's in bad shape. But she's alive, and we're hoping when she's out of - of surgery she'll have something to tell us. The demon -"

"Got away, didn't it," Spike said, and Xander rolled his eyes and made writing motions. Spike waved at him, 'hold on', and Xander sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his chest, mock-pouting. The thunder rolled again, louder and closer and Spike caught a flash of lightning out of the corner of his eye. The air seemed to tingle over his naked skin.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. We hurt it, though - it's lost some of its power but..."

"But it's still a threat."

"Yes. We've sent an escort - we want you and Xander to come back here right away. We really can't risk being separated when it arrives."

"Fucking hell," Spike muttered. "Xander - get dressed. The bloody demon's on the move."

"Who's hurt, Spike?" Xander asked, scrambling out of the bed and snatching at his clothes. Spike started doing the same, letting the phone slip a little between ear and shoulder. He could hear Wes still talking but tuned him out for a moment.

"The German Slayer -"

"Fuck - is she okay?" Xander pulled his jeans-leg down over his sock and shoved one foot into a boot, tying it swiftly. There was a crash of thunder, loud enough to hurt Spike's ears - snap of lightning hard after and Xander flinched and grabbed his shirt.

"They got her away - she's alive -"

"Spike, are you listening?"

"No, bloody hell! Need to get our kit -" There was a thump in the hall and then a slithering scrape and Xander froze, shirt in his hands and one boot still off, staring at the front door.

"Fuck. Spike?"

The door exploded inward, and someone - stepped in.

"Wesley - it's here."

A sharp, shocked indrawn breath, and then - "Oh god. Get to the mews, Spike - move, get to -"

"Xander! Get back here." Spike threw the phone down, pulling on his jeans fast enough to burn his thighs. The figure in the doorway swayed, shadowed and striped with what might be blood. Xander backed slowly, dragging boot and shirt and jacket with him, awkward crab-crawl over the bed as it watched.

It took a limping step forward and Spike cursed, stamping his feet down into his boots and jerking his coat on. No shirt, no belt, but the blessed, engraved daggers in his pockets and the dull, stinging ache of the healing tattoos. The demon hissed softly and Xander made a small sound - sharp gasp for air.

The demon - was Xander. Or some strange approximation of him. Taller, a little wider but thinner - almost skeletal. Shock of dark hair, ragged and lank - wet looking. Xander's face but - not. Longer and saturnine and deathly pale. Beautiful in a twisted way and streaked with dirt and blood. Jeans and white shirt and long, dark coat all wet - ragged as if it had torn through something to get there. Spike grabbed Xander's arm and dragged him rightward. To the other side of the invisible veve on the floor.

"Ss-pike, it - he looks -"

"Just a trick, love. Just a - a way to make you stumble. Stay here, stay by me." Spike could feel Xander shaking, hard enough to chatter his teeth.

"Not a trick," the demon whispered. Voice like a soughing wind, rough and breathy and low. Xander flinched hard. "Brother...blood-brother -"

"I'm - n-not -"

"Don't talk to it!"

"Ss-spike..." The demon turned an eye - wide and dark - on Spike. The other socket was deeply shadowed, seemingly empty but for the spark of green deep inside. "Can't trust the vampire, brother. Tricked uss...hated uss...tried to kill uss... Hurt our friendsss..."

"I don't remember that!" Xander snapped - shoved his foot into his boot and jerked the laces into a tangled knot, knee to his chest while Spike steadied him. "I don't remember anything but Spike h-helping me. You took everything else!"

"I will...give it back..." The demon limped forward - one step, then another, its shoulders hunching slightly and its hands curling - long nails glimmering in the light. Then it leapt, panther-long and agile. Halfway across the veve, pale-blue fire roared up from the lines of the symbol, wreathing the demon. It crashed to the floor, screaming, and Xander took one hesitant step forward.

Spike stopped him with a jerk. "Let's go, Xander! Now! That won't hold it long!"

"Shit - okay -"

Spike ran, Xander's wrist in his hand, a knife in his other - taste of iron and salt in his mouth. Xander ran with him, shirt and jacket clutched to his chest and his heartbeat thundering in Spike's ears. Down the stairs and out into the night, both of them almost falling over the two bodies at the street door.

"Spike! They -"

"They're dead! We don't have time, Xander! *Got to bloody move -* A late-model Bentley stood idling at the curb, stinking of fear and the demon and Spike shoved Xander through the driver's door and pushed in behind. He put the car into gear, slamming the door as he stomped down on the pedal and shot them out onto the rain-slick street. Thunder roared overhead, lightning flickering like a strobe. Beside him, Xander pulled on his shirt and jacket with shaking hands and then patted over his pockets.

"I l-left my notebook back there," he said faintly and Spike risked a fleeting touch to Xander's knee as he swung them wildly around a slow-moving cab.

"It's okay - you don't need it," he said, and turned them north.

Spike fought the sliding, shimmying car around a final corner and straight into the alley that let onto the mew's courtyard. Three huge buildings - stables and tack rooms that had become garages and then storage - ringed a cobbled square that the Council used now for long-range weapons practice. The buildings themselves had become barracks, training rooms and an infirmary for newly-arrived Slayers.

At the moment it was pitch-black and shut up tight, although Spike could sense life. Could sense Slayers, in the upper stories. With Molotov cocktails and fucking flaming arrows, he devoutly hoped - fire was usually fatal. He hit the brakes, wrenching the car half-way round in the middle of the yard - shoved it into gear and was out almost before Xander had pushed himself back from the dash. The rain was sheeting down now, cold and slanting and hard as bullets, thunder growling and lightning close enough to make the hairs stand up on Spike's neck. He was drenched before he made it around the bonnet and Xander slithered out of his seat and into the deluge, blinking.

"Get inside! They're in there - get the fuck inside and go up!" Spike screamed, jerking Xander toward him by his jacket - turning and pushing him. The wicket gate in the tall main doors cracked open, showing Giles' face, tense and white in the glow of a torch.

"Xander, hurry!!"

Xander was fighting him - scrabbling at Spike's coat, his fingers slipping on slick, wet leather. "No! Spike - they didn't have time to do the glamour, it'll come straight to me!" Xander's hair was flat to his skull, sleek and black - his face running with rain. He hadn't put on his patch and he seemed vulnerable and far too young without that dark armor.

Spike grabbed Xander's biceps, squeezing hard - seeing Xander flinch and not caring. "That's why you get as many of us between you and it as you can, damnit!" Thunder again, shaking the sky - shaking the fucking ground and Spike felt something...something coming. Coming fast. Panic and fury twisting in his gut like snakes and he shifted his human face away, snarling. Pushing Xander away - making him stumble and nearly fall. "Fucking run, god damnit! Run!"

"Come with me!" Xander screamed - screamed into a crash of sound like a fucking bomb. White light stabbing down all around them, ozone and the pop of rain-soaked cobbles drying and exploding in a handful of seconds.

And the demon, skimming down the lightning like a child on a slide, black hair a corona around its salt-white face and it didn't look quite as much like Xander as it had. When its bare feet touched the cobbles Spike felt...intent. A surge of energy from the mews like a hammer strike and he leapt without thinking and took Xander to the ground. At least ten arrows - burning with a copper-green flame - slammed into the demon's body. Synchronized strike that made it look like the arrows had sprouted out from the inside and the demon screamed. Keening howl of a gutted dog and it lifted its hand - touched lightning and was gone.

"Jesus - is it - where -?"

"Don't - bloody know -"

"Spike, Xander! Get in here!" Wesley, sounding too damn calm, his voice muffled and strange. Spike rolled off Xander and pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head like a dog. Everything was still buzzing from the fucking lightning and he was half blinded - ears ringing. He found Xander more by scent than anything else - hauled him to his feet and got them both in stumbling motion toward Wesley and Giles. "For god's sake, hurry!"

"We're fucking coming, Percy!" Stepping into the mews and out of the rain was a distinct relief. Five or six Slayers with crossbows stood in a row just inside the door and Spike spared them a raking glance before turning to Xander. "You all right? Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Uh - fuck, I d-dunno, my elbow hurts." Xander rubbed distractedly at the scuffed place on his jacket - stared wide-eyed at the Slayers for a moment and then turned a withering glare on Spike. "'Get as many of us between you and it'? That's your fucking plan? That's the most fucked-up -"

"It works, for fuck's sake -"

"Shut it, both of you," Giles snapped. "We don't know how it got away but it's not here now and we've got enough time to do the glamour and get the both of you into position." Giles shoved his torch at a Slayer and picked up a canvas carry-all, rummaging. "We've got spell traps all around the main floor here - Spike, take off your coat."

"Here - Xander, hold this -" Wesley put a candle into Xander's hands - tossed Spike's coat at a third man, some Watcher Spike had never met and then took the jar Giles handed him, prying at the cork. "This is the - the Xander-glamour, Spike, it's just a few symbols... What in bloody hell is that?" Wesley was staring at the tattoo on Spike's chest and Giles leaned in as well. The marks were raised and white - mostly invisible except for the minute shadow they cast. Giles noticed the one on Spike's left bicep and his eyebrows went up.

"Protection. Just do the bloody spell; we don't have time to faff about!"

"Yes, right -"

"Oh god, it's... Spike, it's coming back, I can - can feel -" The candle was drooping sideways in Xander's grip, stream of clear wax spattering the concrete. Xander's gaze was unfocused and he took an unsteady step forward, blind. "It's cold up...there but... Hurts, it... I'm burning...cut...like being cut...part of me...cut out...follow...the fire..."

"Xander -"

"Stand still," Wesley hissed and then Spike jerked as Wesley's fingers - smeared in something cold and wet - moved over his chest. Wesley sketched rapidly, symbols that covered the veve and reached from collarbones to belly. "Here - put out your tongue."

Spike glared. "What the fuck -"

"Just do it, for heaven's sake," Giles snapped. He took the candle from Xander and pushed at Xander's jacket. "Xander, get your jacket and shirt off, hurry. I have to hide you."

Spike opened his mouth and Wes' fingertip touched his tongue. Explosion of complicated taste - sulphur and blood, earth and ashes and myrrh. It soured - became bitter and then faded entirely and Spike blinked, dizzy. Then it was over and Wesley was drawing something over Xander's chest while Giles sprinkled a dark powder over the candle flame, sending a disproportionately large cloud of smoke rolling toward the ceiling.

"That's it, that's done it -" Wesley muttered, corking the jar and shoving it away and Giles took Xander's arm. Xander flinched slightly and Spike wanted to growl. Bruises were already coming up on the pale skin from where Spike had tackled him and he wanted to take Xander up and away himself.

"Xander - you need to get upstairs."

"Giles...Giles?" Xander blinked - looked around himself, his gaze searching until it fell on Spike. "Too late, Giles."

*Bloody - fucking -* Too late even for that. The air groaned - the building did - and thunder crashed. Glass shattered outward from every window in sight and Spike found himself wrapping his arms around Xander again - rushing him away and down, behind a jumble of mats and sparring pads. There was a second or two of frisson as the air charged impossibly fast and then lightning split the roof - ceiling - the floor ten feet away. Burning chunks of wood and plaster rained down, and screams, and at least one Slayer from the upper floor. Rain poured into the hole that had been blasted through three layers of building and the demon stood there, swaying on its feet.

Half naked, more blood, more black. Burned, it seemed, and coming undone at the seams. Hunching a little - lifting and turning its head like a dog that scents and is uneasy. The face was still Xander's but it was a caricature now. Too long and too cruel and the teeth too sharp when the lips lifted away in a nearly-soundless growl. The hands were clawed - the legs bending in the wrong places and Spike felt Xander shiver convulsively, gasping in a sharp breath.

Spike could hear the Watchers and the Slayers moving - whispering - setting up spells and taking positions and someone, somewhere, turned a torch onto the demon, who hissed and shielded its eyes. Another torch and another until it was standing in a pool of bright light. The demon shifted and turned, dazzled, and Spike put his fingers to Xander's lips - got Xander to focus just on him. "Don't move. Stay here. Let the bloody Watchers do their thing, yeah? Gonna gut this fucker, love, and then I'm going to come get you. Understand?"

"I - I -Ss-spike -"

"Understand, love?" Spike said - caught Xander's jaw in his hand and kissed him. "Fuck, I hope you don't - don't -"

"I won't forget," Xander said and kissed him back and then Spike crawled upright and stepped away from their hiding place - stepped out into the empty floor and stepped toward the demon. It spun, growling louder, crouching down - and then froze. It lifted its head and took a long breath, mouth open and blood-red tongue licking out once.

"Brother...you must... I need you, brother..."

"I know you do," Spike said, fighting to keep his human face - fighting to keep his voice level. He could feel the Slayers still - could feel their focus and their intent and he could feel the spell. Giles and Wesley chanting something so softly, faint waft of hemp and lavender smoke. He walked slowly - carefully - toward the demon. It shifted, facing him - limped forward a half step and then stopped, grimacing. "I know you need me," Spike said softly. His nails were cutting into his palms and he could taste Xander on his lips. *Please, fucking please don't watch, this is gonna fucking hurt and...don't -*

"Yesss..." The demon's arms lifted - reached - the tattered remains of the coat sliding off and revealing corded muscle and long bones - skin leprosy-pale, mottled with bruises and blood. Ropes of knotted veins and sharp knuckles and the hands were cold - so fucking cold when they settled on Spike's bare shoulders. When they lightly caressed Spike's arms and then reached up to cradle his face. "Yess, brother." The demon leaned in and sniffed again and Spike braced himself, every muscle tight and trembling. He could see Xander out of the corner of his eye, dark head just lifting over the edge of some piece of equipment and he bit his lip, willing himself to not move - not react - do nothing.

The demon's head tipped, one side and then the other. Doggish and quizzical and a good six inches taller than Spike - twice as broad. "C'mon then, c'mon, c'mon -" Spike muttered, and the demon grinned.

"Love you, brother," it hissed and it leaned forward and lightly pressed its mouth to Spike's. Cold carrion kiss, wet and iron-tanged and fucking horrible and Spike recoiled only to have it snatch him back hard, hands gripping Spike's biceps now, jerking him close to the demon's chest. "You tass-te...sweet as honey-mead," it murmured. And then it sank five claws into Spike's chest, and sieved Spike's soul out.

Spike felt it go - rushing, tearing, burning wrench to the very root of himself - to the warp and woof of his entire being and he felt his knees going - felt the blood down his belly and felt his throat burning as he screamed. Felt the concrete floor jolt his knees and saw the demon lift something. Golden, pulsing - shining like a thousand stars and the demon swallowed it. The glow wobbled - winked - fluttered like a guttering candle and then began to grow. Brighter and brighter, enough to hurt Spike's eyes and he was falling, sideways and down, feeling oddly empty - oddly cold. Feeling the demon inside himself surge and turn and scream again as the glow became sunlight-bright and the pain of it all become too much.

The last thing Spike saw was Xander running toward him, and the demon flying apart.

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